Daredevil, the Stalking Pervert

Mike had originally only wanted to rescue Chloe, then casually take some ill-gotten gains from the Foot Gang to make up for the lost commission. That was why he had chosen Zabuza Momochi, who excelled at stealth.

But now...

Don't forget, Zabuza was also an assassination expert proficient in the Silent Killing Technique. This was the perfect time to put it to use.

Crimson chakra overflowed from the enraged Mike.

Thick white mist appeared out of nowhere, rapidly spreading through the air until it filled the entire warehouse.

Ninja Art: Hidden Mist Technique.

Sean Sacks, nicknamed "Stinky Feet," was the leader of the Foot Gang, an Irish American. Recently, he had gotten involved with Maggia of the Irish Crime Syndicate. In Hell's Kitchen, the Maggia Group could even be mentioned in the same breath as New York's renowned Gucci Family.

Now, the Foot Gang had money, men, and guns. Sean, whose career was on the rise, was brimming with ambition.

At that moment, he had his arms around a busty Black girl, kneading her wantonly, when the strange white mist drifted before his eyes.

"Damn it, what's going on? Smoke grenades? Cops!" Sean shoved the girl aside, pulled out a famous AK-47 from beneath the sofa, and roared, "Brothers, grab your weapons!"

The mist was so thick it could not be dispersed. Visibility was less than a meter. Sean recalled an old rumor: when dense fog descended, the Grim Reaper silently harvested lives.

Once, Sean had scoffed at it, believing it was merely a rumor spread by rival gangs to intimidate others.

"It's not real, it's not real..."

Sean kept repeating the words, trying to hypnotize himself. He held his gun tightly, every nerve stretched taut.

"Hawk!"

Sean shouted the name of one of his men.

"I'm here... Ah!"

"Ah!"

"Ah!"

What answered Sean were short, sharp screams.

Finally, someone could take it no longer and pulled the trigger, firing wildly. As though some switch had been flipped, gunfire erupted and bullets flew everywhere. Screams and shrieks rang out.

"Damn it!"

Sean, who still had his wits about him, reacted quickly. He dove behind the sofa, lay flat on the ground, and curled himself up as tightly as possible.

He did not know how long it had been. Perhaps a long time, perhaps only a moment. It felt as if he had lost all sense of time. The gunfire gradually died down, and the warehouse fell into a bizarre silence, broken only by faint, muffled sobbing.

Sean cautiously poked half his head out from behind the sofa. The dense mist had not dispersed. Black Pearl was lying on the floor, a large pool of blood spreading beneath her.

Sean suddenly froze.

He could feel someone standing behind him.

"I'm with Maggia. If you kill me, he won't let you go."

"I have cash, at least a hundred thousand US dollars. It's in the safe, and only I can open it."

Sean's mind raced. In two concise sentences, he laid out the pros and cons with unprecedented fluency.

However...

Squelch!

A gleaming blade tip pierced out through the upper right side of his abdomen.

Mike's cold voice rang out. "I pierced your liver and severed a vein, so the blood flowing out is dark red, almost black. If you receive proper treatment within fifteen minutes, you can survive. Otherwise, you'll bleed to death in utter despair and agony. Considering how much filth like you has messed up Hell's Kitchen, do you think an ambulance can get here within fifteen minutes? Heh..."

Squelch!

The blade was pulled from Sean's body.

Excruciating pain slammed into his brain, and Sean dropped to his knees. He turned around with difficulty, only to find nothing behind him.

The white mist gradually dispersed.

When Mike left the warehouse, he was carrying a little girl. Her eyes were filled with panic, and her lips were pressed tightly together.

She was Chloe, the child Old Earl had mentioned. She looked five or six years old, thin as a rake and light as a feather in his arms. It was heartbreaking.

Suddenly, Mike stopped and looked up at a rooftop several hundred meters away.

Someone there had set up a modified Barrett M82 equipped with a military-grade Night Vision scope.

When Mike looked his way, Frank Castle behind the scope froze for a moment.

He found me?

What sharp senses!

Mike's gaze did not linger on Frank. Instead, he turned toward the building beside it. There, a figure in a dark red bodysuit was hiding even more deeply.

"The Punisher had his eye on the Foot Gang, while Daredevil seemed to be trying to stop the Punisher. A superhero who refused to kill and an antihero who fought violence with violence. Interesting..."

Mike smiled and carried Chloe back to the supermarket.

"Who's there?!"

Hearing a sound from the second floor, Old Earl raised his Remington and stared nervously toward the staircase.

"It's me."

Mike spoke up, lest Old Earl become so tense that he accidentally fired.

Old Earl visibly relaxed and lowered the gun, gazing excitedly as Mike led Chloe downstairs.

"Chloe, poor little Chloe."

Old Earl set down his shotgun, stepped forward, and crouched down. He gently embraced the little girl, tears streaming down his aged face.

"Grandpa Earl."

The little girl, who had been so well-behaved that it hurt to watch, buried herself against Old Earl's chest and burst into tears.

System Notification: [Commission completed. Soul Energy +1].

Soul Energy drifted from Old Earl once more and entered Mike's chest.

Buzz!

Together with the previous reserve, the accumulated Soul Energy reached ten portions and transformed into a gray Soul Fruit covered in mysterious patterns.

I wonder what it'll give me. The Executioner's Blade would be nice. It would pair perfectly with Zabuza Momochi. Mike prayed inwardly.

Unfortunately, although what the fruit produced was based on his memories and understanding, it was random.

Otherwise—

A Logia. The Ice-Ice Fruit. Wouldn't it be great to go ice-skating across the Pacific ahead of schedule?

Or fire off a Planetary Devastation to relieve stress whenever I felt like it. I wonder if Nick Fury would panic!

That image was too beautiful to think about.

"There's milk and sandwiches in the fridge. Chloe has been hungry all day, so let her eat something, but don't let her eat too much at once. I'm going out for a bit..."

Coming back to his senses, Mike suddenly had an idea.

In a corner near the supermarket.

Daredevil, Matthew Murdock, looked at the supermarket sign with a complicated expression.

He had originally been following the Punisher, intending to stop him from going on a killing spree. Unexpectedly, someone had struck against the Foot Gang before Frank could, and with such terrifying efficiency that by the time he reacted, the fight was already over.

"You followed me here? That makes me unhappy."

Mike's voice sounded beside Matthew's ear, startling him badly.

As a child, Matthew had been blinded by radioactive material, but it had greatly enhanced his other four senses.

Especially his superhuman touch and superhuman hearing.

His superhuman touch gave him balance, strength, and neural reactions far beyond those of ordinary people. He could even sense whether someone was approaching through changes in the surrounding temperature and air pressure.

His superhuman hearing could feed the surrounding sound waves back to his brain, forming a special all-around "vision," much like a Bat's echolocation.

So this was the first time someone had come this close without him noticing.

In terms of perception, the Silent Killing Technique completely countered Matthew. If Mike had wanted to kill him, he would already be dead.

Matthew "saw" Mike less than two meters away, standing with his arms folded and leaning against a streetlamp, radiating hostility.

"I'm sorry."

Matthew apologized frankly, then said in a deep voice, "Your goal was to save someone. You shouldn't have gone on a killing spree."

"You mean the Foot Gang members didn't deserve to die?"

"No. Every member of the Foot Gang deserved to die. But you shouldn't be the one to judge them."

"Then who should? The law or God?"

Mike laughed. "That's what I find strange. The Foot Gang had been doing evil for more than a day or two, and no one cared about all those victims. But the moment the Foot Gang died, you came right over to question what I did. What's that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it. Ideals aren't something you can convince someone else of in a few words, so there's no point talking more. I respect your 'no killing' principle, and I hope you won't interfere with me."

"Otherwise, either call the police and let the law's Iron Fist punish me, or we fight it out. The one with the harder fists gets to talk."

"What do you think, Matthew Murdock?"

At last, Mike revealed Daredevil's true identity.